C. D. Wright leaves this intimate message in Here that sad body lies with its rubymeated vestibule receiving the breeze. And we further advise that you kick off your shoes and prepare to meet with a lot of furry individuals because—it's February,  we've been late in coming (as sometimes we're wont to do in bed), but have no doubt about it: there's the rustle of eros in the air!

In this supplement, twenty-two poets penetrate and explore the world of erotic—its sensual beginnings and fluid endings, its low-pitched growls, mid-thigh caresses and upper hand jobs. They observed peeping toms behind blinds. They started sleazy dialogues in bars. They got their feet wet. They drew bags of testicles under door knobs. They gathered impressions on car seat covers. They squatted naked over steamed rice. They sneaked inside triple-mirrored dressing rooms. They took home lovemarks on their neck. In short, all had a field day with their submissions.

On a philosophical note: are sexual innuendos, like beauty, in the eye of the beholder? Or are they in the everywhere weaving through your day, waiting for you to notice the double meaning behind every word? In his eye-opening essay, J.T. Best gives a  line- by-line interpretation of After Apple Picking  as a chauvinist lust poem. You will never look at Robert Frost's innocent tuft of white hair the same way again.